


Get Your Shit Together, Asshole

by Dragon_in_Disguise



Series: Milkovich Siblings [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Happy Ending, Hurt Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Colin Milkovich, Protective Iggy Milkovich, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27384688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_in_Disguise/pseuds/Dragon_in_Disguise
Summary: “Mikhailo!” Mickey stops at the shout, looking up at Colin angrily. His brother glares right back at him, squeezing his arms tightly and pressing him further down into the couch. “Are you done?!”aka, an alternate version of S05E10 with no Sammi and protective Milkovich brothers
Relationships: Colin Milkovich & Iggy Milkovich, Colin Milkovich & Iggy Milkovich & Mickey Milkovich, Colin Milkovich & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Iggy Milkovich & Mickey Milkovich
Series: Milkovich Siblings [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645429
Comments: 10
Kudos: 209





	Get Your Shit Together, Asshole

**Author's Note:**

> As the summary says, Sammi is not in this story so no military dudes coming to get Ian! 
> 
> I wanted to write Mickey's brothers stepping in to help him in some way and I thought hey! Let's write them reacting to that stupid fucking scene in E10 of S05 because I have a love-hate relationship with that scene (the fight in the baseball field) soooo enjoy!

The whole walk to the high school baseball field, Mickey holds back his pestering questions about Ian’s bandaged hand, cautious of Ian’s fluctuating moods. His meds are still adjusting, working through his system to bring his old Ian back, albeit rather slowly. After the whole disaster show with Ian taking his son to a whole other state, the redhead finally got some help and was diagnosed properly, put on medication for the Bipolar Disorder he inherited from his mother. 

He hasn’t been the same, really - though how he was acting beforehand wasn’t the Ian Mickey knew either. This one though was blank, empty of emotions aside from anger and annoyance. Mickey hasn’t been sure what to do except let his medications roll through him, standing on the sidelines and keeping Ian on the right track to getting better. 

It hurts, really. Ian hardly glances Mickey’s way anymore unless to show he’s annoyed with whatever Mickey is saying. Mickey tries to not be too pestering, but it gets difficult when Ian shows no sign of getting better. Mickey keeps having to remind himself this takes time. 

He takes the bag full of beer from Ian as the redhead carefully climbs onto the roof of the batter’s box, following after him after Ian hops down. Mickey looks around and grins, nostalgia fluttering in his gut. “Jesus… haven’t been here since that time we banged.” He shoots Ian a smile, but the comment seems to go over Ian’s head. Mickey lets it slide. 

“Let’s do some pull-ups,” Ian hums, gesturing to the bar linking the chained fences together where a gate should’ve been.

Mickey holds out a hand to stop him. “Your hand, man.” 

Ian shrugs him away, reaching up and grasping the bar to pull himself up. Mickey, after seeing he is gripping the bar just fine, pulls out his lighter and cigarettes to light up a stick. He honestly needs it after the week he’s been having. 

The smoke burns through his lungs, leaving an aching but satisfying feeling rolling through his body. Ian only manages to pull himself over the bar once, his arms shaking as he just barely tries to go for a second. Mickey’s lips twitch, amused by Ian’s weak attempts. He remembers when this kid could bust out ten pull-ups faster than Mickey could, and Mickey could do a lot due to working out all the damn time in juvie. It’s weird and oddly funny but also sad to see Ian struggle with two pull-ups. 

“I’m out of shape,” Ian says, dropping from the bar with a defeated sigh. Mickey chooses not to comment, taking another drag from his cigarette. He glances over at Ian, finding him rifling through the bag. His smile drops when Ian pulls out a can of beer. “Shotgun.” 

Mickey sighs, shaking his head. “No, no, look, you’re not supposed to drink on Lithium. It makes your blood fucking toxic and gets you hammered in, like, two seconds flat.” He honestly only knows this because of Iggy. The nutjob knew a shitton about drugs, whether they’re medical or illegal or both. After learning about Ian’s medication, his brother dropped random facts about the drug to Mickey before he went out on a run, leaving him dumbfounded in the kitchen. 

He’s about to convince Ian for them to go grab some food and get the beer back in the Gallagher fridge when he’s cut off by Ian's fist hitting his jaw. Mickey stumbles back in pain and surprise, blood pooling onto his tongue. “Ow- what the _fuck_ , Ian?!”

When he looks up, pressing his hand to his mouth and feeling the warm liquid seep between his fingers, his heart stops for a moment when he sees the look on Ian’s face. The anger twitching at his lips and annoyance filling his eyes reminds him of Terry for a moment, taking another step back as Ian moves closer to him, watching his lip curl in irritation. “Sick of your whiny, pussy crap. I don’t need a fucking caretaker, alright?” 

Mickey scoffs, turning to spit blood down onto the ground. His jaw aches now, pressing his tongue against his teeth to make sure nothing is loose or broken. Ian keeps talking. “I need the shit-talking, bitch slapping piece of Southside trash I fell for.” Mickey ignores the stab of anger for a moment at his words, but it quickly comes back when Ian shoves him. “Where is he? The fuck is he, Mickey?!”

Mickey reacts immediately, shoving Ian back in return. “Fuck you!” he snaps. “Fuck me for giving a shit, you prick!” 

Ian scoffs. “Can give all the shits you want, but the next time my dick is limp from all the meds, don’t go all “oh it’s okay, wah wah,” just suck it harder, you _faggot_.” 

White-hot fury pulses through his veins at Ian’s words, moving forward and slamming his fist into Ian’s jaw. “You _motherfucker!”_ He lands another punch before Ian reacts, grabbing his wrists and struggling to keep him from hitting him again. He quickly ducks under Mickey’s arm, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s waist and pushing him backward. Mickey stumbles at the force, slamming his fist into Ian’s ribs. It hardly does anything as Ian shoves him down onto the ground, hovering over him and punching him in the temple. Mickey can’t stop the next punch from how dizzy the last one made him, gritting his teeth and grabbing Ian by the neck, rolling them until he’s on top of Ian. He punches him again, watching Ian’s skin split open under his knuckles in satisfaction. Ian grabs his fist before he can punch him again, his other hand reaching up and grabbing Mickey’s neck. Mickey rips his hand free and follows suit, wrapping his hands around Ian’s neck as Ian’s other hand joins his hand around his neck. Mickey’s lungs already start to burn, rolling off of Ian onto his side as the two try to choke the other out. 

Finally, they release each other. Mickey gasps and coughs as cold air shoots into his lungs, hearing Ian in the same condition. Mickey spits out the remaining blood in his mouth, evening out his breathing as he rolls onto his back, staring up at the sky as the adrenaline dies down.

His heart burns, outweighing the pain on his face. He stays down for a moment, watching Ian slowly stumble to his feet, walking away from him back to his bag full of beer. When Ian stabs at the side of his can, covering the hole with his mouth and popping the top open, Mickey’s not entirely sure what happens. He just stops feeling anything. 

Ian tosses his empty can down with a relieved sigh as Mickey stumbles over, the redhead shooting him a weak grin and holding out a can for him. Mickey ignores the offer, walking past him and grabbing onto the chained fence, hoisting himself up when Ian grabs his jacket. “Where you-”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Mickey snaps, slapping Ian’s hand away from him. Ian blinks in surprise, stepping back and watching Mickey climb up onto the batter’s box and hop down onto the other side of the fence. Their eyes connect for a moment, Ian’s open and surprised for the first time in a while. Mickey glares back at him, throwing him the finger before he marches away from the field, leaving Ian behind with his beer he oh-so desperately needs. 

Fuck this. Mickey can’t handle this right now. If Ian wants to drown himself and ruin the progress his meds have given him, then Mickey will let him. 

Maybe this wasn’t the best way to get his frustrations out. Mickey’s chest pangs at the sight of the kitchen as he continues to basically destroy it, his brain screaming at him _You’re just like Terry, huh? Look at you! Destroying everything around you like a monster. Like that monster._ Mickey throws another glass plate to the floor, watching the pieces scatter along the tile. 

“Bro, what the fuck?!” Mickey ignores the voice of his brother, not bothering to figure out which one as he kicks through a cabinet door, grunting in pain when wood slices through his jeans and into his skin. He easily ignores the pain, ripping the broken cabinet door off its hinges and throwing it across the kitchen. 

“Mickey- shit!” Arms wrap around his waist, lifting him off his feet and pulling him from the kitchen. Mickey shouts and kicks in protest, clawing at the arms wrapped around him. “Calm down, Mickey! Christ!” 

“Couch!” Mickey yelps when he’s suddenly thrown back, landing on the couch and hardly having time to catch his breath when a weight settles on top of him. He blindly tries to punch whoever is on top of him, but his arms are grabbed and pinned down to his chest, making him yell in frustration. 

“Mikhailo!” Mickey stops at the shout, looking up at Colin angrily. His brother glares right back at him, squeezing his arms tightly and pressing him further down into the couch. “Are you done?!” 

“Fuck off! Get off of me!” Mickey snaps back, struggling under him. 

He sees Iggy out of the corner of his eye, watching the two with a twisted expression. Mickey’s struggles slowly stop after time passes, Colin not once letting up as Mickey calms down. When Mickey finally stills, gasping and panting for air, Colin squeezes his arms again. “You done?”

Mickey nods wordlessly, huffing in relief when Colin releases him. The brothers move around, Mickey sitting down in the middle of the couch with Colin to his right and Iggy to his left. It’s quiet for a few minutes, neither brother sure where to start. Finally, Iggy pulls out a pack of cigarettes for them. “What was that about, bro?”

Mickey shakes his head, taking a cigarette shakily and letting Iggy light it. “Nothing.”

“Don’t do that,” Colin says, taking one as well. “Could’ve mistaken you for dad, Mick.”

Mickey stiffens, knowing Colin was just being honest. The countless times they’ve walked in on Terry destroying some room in this home, a couple of times being their bedrooms. Mickey knows he just created a scene his own father has made multiple times. 

Iggy sighs, blowing smoke out through his nose. “What happened to your face?”

“Hm?” Mickey looks at him, confused. Iggy gestures to his face where his cuts from Ian’s punches are still open, eyeing the bruise starting to blossom on his jaw. Mickey looks away, wincing when he sees Colin frown out of the corner of his eye. He almost doesn’t answer, but the pain in his heart makes everything spill out. “Ian.” 

He sees Iggy try to mask his surprise, sees the way his head jerks a bit to look at him. Colin’s frown deepens, eyes narrowing at the news. “Ian? As in your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Mickey mutters, unable to make a sarcastic remark about a different Ian. “We got into a fight.”

“About what?” Iggy asks.

Mickey shrugs. “He’s still adjusting to his meds and shit. He got pissy when I told him not to drink and we got into a fight.” 

“He swing first?” Colin asks. 

Mickey nods. “Yeah. I don’t know… it was bullshit. Might apologize to him or whatever. No point in fighting over it.” 

Iggy looks over at Colin, the two having a silent conversation. He huffs and nudges Mickey, jerking his head towards the kitchen. “Think the kitchen deserves an apology instead.” 

Mickey snorts. “Yeah, probably. I’ll clean it up, guys.”

“Need help?”

“Nah, I got it,” Mickey shrugs, stubbing out his cigarette and getting to his feet. “I’m gonna crash here tonight.”

“Fine with us,” Colin chuckles. “You still live here and all.” 

“Besides, it’s not like Terry is coming home anytime soon,” Iggy hums. Mickey grins half-heartedly in return, moving around the couch for the kitchen. Iggy watches him go for a moment before he scoots closer to Colin, lowering his voice. “Thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” 

Colin huffs out an amused breath of air at his older brother, taking the last drag from his cigarette. “Bust down the Gallagher door and beat the shit out of Ian?”

“Bingo,” Iggy grins, getting to his feet. 

“I’m coming!” Fiona groans, walking downstairs towards the pounding at the front door. She grumbles under her breath and unlocks the front door, eyebrows raising in surprise at the sight of the two eldest Milkovich brothers on her porch. “Hey? Mickey’s not here.”

“We’re here for Ian,” Iggy says, shooting her a sly smirk. “He here?”

She ignores the flirty look and steps back, gesturing for them to come in. “Yeah, he’s upstairs. What’s up?”

“Just need to talk to him,” Colin says, following Iggy into the Gallagher house. She watches them disappear up the stairs, shaking her head and walking into the kitchen. 

The two brothers find Ian in his bedroom with Liam, the Gallagher looking up in confusion when the two walk in. “Iggy? Colin?”

“Wassup?” Iggy smiles bitterly, grabbing Ian by the collar of his shirt and punching him right in the face. Liam jumps in surprise, fleeing from his bed and out of the room. Ian gasps in surprise, falling back onto his bed and unprepared for the slew of punches Iggy lands on him. 

“Hey! Hey! What’re you doing?!” Fiona shouts, shoving Colin aside and ripping Iggy off of her brother. She shrieks when Colin grabs her biceps and lifts her away from Iggy, letting her go when she shoves away from him. He blocks her path to their brothers, waiting for Iggy to finish their business. 

Iggy huffs out a laugh, grabbing Ian’s wrist before he can punch him, landing one last punch on the bleeding Gallagher. Ian gasps in pain, lifting his head to glare at the eldest Milkovich. Iggy cracks his knuckles, sneering down at the redhead. “If you ever lay your hands on my brother again, I’ll bring my bat next time.” 

“The one with the spikes?” Colin asks with a smirk, glancing over his shoulder at the two. 

“Yup,” Iggy chuckles, seeing a slimmer of fear flicker in Ian’s eyes. “Get your shit together, asshole. My brother’s taken enough beatings in his life.” 

He doesn’t wait to see Ian’s reaction, turning and facing Fiona and Liam at the door. He hums and slides past them with Colin in tow. “Have a nice night, Gallagher.” 

Fiona opens and closes her mouth as they go, turning to Ian with wide eyes. “The hell was that?”

Ian wipes blood from his mouth, shoulders slumping as he sighs. “Karma biting me in the ass.” 

“Ow- what the fuck?!” Mickey snaps, looking at Fiona in annoyance at getting whacked in the head by her. 

“Your brothers came in last night and beat the shit out of Ian!” she snaps back, whacking his shoulder. “What did you do?!”

“Fuck- I didn’t do anything!” Mickey growls, moving past her for the stairs. He rushes up and barrels into the Gallagher bedroom, stopping when he sees Ian. “Oh shit.” 

“Hey,” Ian murmurs, sitting up from his bed. His face is all bruised and cut, worse than when Mickey left him at the field. Yet, he smiles softly. “You alright?” 

“What? You seriously asking me that?” Mickey shakes his head, moving to stand in front of him. He cups his face gently, huffing softly. “I’m sorry. My brothers are assholes.”

“Don’t be,” Ian mumbles, grabbing his hands. “Think I deserved it.” 

“Why?”

“You were just looking out for me,” Ian says, squeezing his hands, "and they were just looking out for you... These meds are really fucking me over… but I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. I’m sorry I’m a fucking asshole.”

Mickey’s brows raise, taken aback by the apology. “Ian-”

“I’m still having a hard time feeling right now, but I’ll keep thinking about how it gets better,” Ian promises. “Mind if we just lay down for a bit? I already took my meds this morning and ate… we could grab dinner later?”

Mickey’s gaze softens, his stomach fluttering at Ian's offer. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

Ian’s lips twitch in a slight smile, scooting over to make room for Mickey. He tugs off his coat and shoes before he climbs in beside him, letting Ian spoon him and hold him close. Mickey’s heart warms, watching Ian reach over him to grip his hand, burying his face into the back of Mickey’s neck. Mickey smiles, pressing a kiss to the back of Ian’s hand. 

Maybe things will get better.

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE do not hesitate to comment some prompts down below for this series! I desperately wanna write about the Milkovich siblings more, and now that I found out for sure that Colin is indeed their brother, I'm very excited to write about them! Canon compliant and non-canon compliant are both wanted! Hell, throw in an AU if ya want ;)


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